Surviving Cyanide
by EchoNymph
Summary: Frustration? Not normal. Lust… always…hesitation? Never. Alive? Barely. Made for illicit loving he continued… although more earnestly than he remembered...
1. Chapter 1

_**I own nothing…but my humble story and even humbler character. This was going to be a oneshot, but I think a chapter or so more will finish to my satisfaction:D Enjoy…O and if you do not particularly enjoy adult situations I suggest you read something else, although this is quite tame:P **_

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Snow. It was abnormally chaste. Surely it was the work of some divine presence, giving purity in the bleakest of seasons; reminding people of its righteousness. Snow hides all things hideous and offensive to the eye underneath a mantle of splendor, creating equality between ugliness and beauty. It conceals dangers and takes lives, lulls people into a false sense of security with its seeming innocence and fierce majesty; a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Much like myself." An unearthly chuckle escaped his throat.

He enjoyed the cold. He enjoyed the irony of hunting and killing under its façade of integrity, but above all he reveled in the absolute grandeur of scarlet red upon startling white. This one would be easy…too easy. So young and innocent, once he was done with her, death would visit her swiftly. He chuckled again…

"So unfair."

He found it perfectly…arousing.

Her brunette tresses whipped across her rosy young cheeks. There was a faint hint of blue across her otherwise pinkish lips. He sniffed the air longingly; her fresh, healthy scent wafted towards him. It seemed to spread from his nose, all the way down his long hard body with the impetus of a raging inferno. It didn't matter how many times he hunted, how many victims he took; it was never enough. His sharp eyes focused on her trembling body. She raced through the frozen wasteland with a frantic urgency. He closed his eyes and allowed the sound of her dainty footfalls and pulsing heart to carry him to an ethereal plane.

It took no effort whatsoever on his part to keep up with her. He chuckled inwardly at her futile attempt to outrun him. He would make it slow, let her savor the otherworldly pleasures he would soon reveal to her.

"Why would anyone want to die any other way?" The thought made him smile.

"Leave me alone…PLEASE!" She screamed.

All she was met with was a long, low, demonic snigger. To her horror something stirred deep within her body…something she had only felt on occasion before.

She could tell that whatever form of creature that tracked her, could sense it. She felt the air prickle with an exotic current. The tips of her lips quivered as if lightly stung. Her heartbeat amplified to an excruciating level. Her tears fell thick and salty onto her tingling lips. This wasn't how she was meant to feel…she wasn't meant to…she shouldn't…how could she…_want_ it to catch her.

"Too easy." He drawled. Her own arousal was unbearably evident to him.

"It would be so much more interesting if just once…someone _didn_'t want me." He sighed halfheartedly.

She didn't stop running, using her queer arousal to propel herself forward. A previously unknown instinct told her she wasn't only running for her dignity…she was running for her very life.

Her exertion only heightened his ravenous hunger. Her fluttering heart more alluring than her exposed cleavage, her racking sobs attracting him more than her uncovered legs.

Barely moving a muscle he flitted through the trees and met her head on. She crashed into his stone chest. A spasm of pain shot through her upper body. She vaulted backwards. He followed. Her breathing was hampered from the impact and her vision was failing.

"Please…" Was all she managed weakly.

His chortle stifled any hope that may have remained in her. She couldn't complain…it was her own fault. Her mother had warned her. Warned her of the dangers of going out alone…unprotected. She threw back her head and stared at him with her wild eyes. Her legs stiffened. Running would only prolong whatever it was he had in store for her. He reached out one perfect, polished hand and allowed his fingertips to grace her lips.

The arctic shock of his touch changed her. Her legs relaxed, her breathing gradually decreased in tempo until it was barely audible and her hands hung limply at her side.

"I must survive." She thought calmly.

"And if that means I let this creature _violate_ me…then…so be it."

His hand slowly traced the outline of her face; she closed her eyes. Using the same hand he abruptly clasped her neck. She gasped. It was so easy to hurt her; frighten her; make her pay.

Defiance claimed her features, yet still she let him touch her. As his hand moved lower, she obliged him. As his mouth clutched hers, she endured it…she couldn't fight him, all she could do was fight _herself_.

Frustration? Not normal. Lust… always…hesitation? Never. Alive? Barely. Made for illicit loving he continued… although more earnestly than he remembered.

"Harlot…will you let me deflower you without so much as a whimper of resistance?" He hissed as his body dragged hers into the cold snow.

He kissed her violently and heaved her with a mighty thrust onto a frozen lake.

Her breath was quickening dangerously. Her heart was beginning to pound…her hands needing to grab him, her nails longing to flay him and her teeth yearning to bruise him.

"Dear God…forgive me…I must not…" She whined almost incoherently.

"Here is where I'll entomb you…underneath this very ice…for God and his Angels to scorn for all eternity." He gasped sadistically.

He wanted her reaction…he needed her reaction. His body, lean and hard, was painfully aware of her disgusting compliancy. He could smell her rapid breathing through expectant nostrils. The feeling of her warm, living, breathing, soft and delicate body drenched under him with sweat and watery snow fueled his dominating hatred.

"I'll show you your God." He groaned heatedly.

She felt herself being dragged through torrents of oncoming air and snow. She was long past feeling the cold. She opened her eyes and cursed them at once. He was glorious. Raven hair whipped around his ears as they flew through the air. His lips were so inviting…his neck so strong and authoritarian. Curse her offensive eyes…the tools of her destruction. Although it seemed her other senses had conspired also. Her nose allowed his addictive scent to enter unmolested. Her tongue offered her vivid memories of what it had tasted like to be entwined with his, and her skin…her skin tingled throughout her being, begging her to let him caress her again. Only her ears seemed to understand the importance of endurance. They repeated his words to her…his awful words at an odds with his beauty, his words that steeled her.

Deflower her? He never could. Her body was nothing more than a house for her spirit…he could break all her windows and run through all her doors, but she would keep her mind intact. That was why she couldn't let herself respond to him, for if she did she would be bartering her soul.

The air stopped as abruptly as it had begun. He dropped her unceremoniously and tore off his coat. He tossed it onto her lap.

Where was she? As if disorientated from staring at him, her eyes took their blessed time in adjusting to her surroundings. Then realization struck her like a slap in the face.

"What in God's name are you?" She gasped as she beheld the steeple towering above her.

"I, my dear, am what you have been waiting for since the day you were born. I am the first…_man_, you will know and the last…to mould your living flesh in his hands…I am the bane of mankind and I my dear…am going to _break_ you." He chuckled grimly.

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_**Thanks for reading;) A second chapter is forthcoming:D Reviews are always helpful…in fact suggestions, queries and just general comments are greatly appreciated. ;)**_

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	2. Chapter 2

She had been allowed to feel too much. She had let him in too far. It was impossible now…_to resist…__**resist**_…

This was ridiculous. How could any part of her still possess the means to fight? He had won…had he not? His touch was so…insistent; his tongue so preciously delicious; lunacy to believe herself capable of any form of defiance…but perhaps that was it, a lunatic's chance of winning…

"Perhaps if I were to show you…just how powerless your God is…you will…" He gasped heatedly as his fingertips moved relentlessly along her thighs.

He tugged her playfully towards the huge stone baptismal font that stood insignificantly out of place in the centre of the aisle. She felt her legs move along with him, grotesquely in time with his. She closed her eyes and tried to pretend that his beautifully tapered hand was resting anywhere but on the small of her back.

He twirled her around as he hummed in his curiously sweet sounding voice.

"Take a cup my dear! Pour it on my stillborn heart! Let us not see if your God will cast me down!" The tone of command in his maddening voice made compliance necessary.

He slowly but tenaciously moved his hand from the small of her back, up across her stomach, then flittingly stroking her navel before moving irreverently along her breast to finally come to rest around her flimsy wrist.

She moaned softly, his touch melting her thighs. His hand tightened slightly and she felt a great fear rise in her like a sinister wraith. Her breathing came deep and heavy and the saliva in her mouth evaporated, leaving her mouth arid. She could see it so clearly, with her waking eyes she imagined him snapping her wrist like a dry twig, yet she could not move.

"Why would I hurt you?" He moaned lovingly. "I _want_ you."

She almost believed him…if it weren't for the pain in her wrist… she would have.

Using his cool fingers he wrapped hers around the small, unadorned chalice. Her eyes were still tightly shut and she relied on her other senses to form a picture for her. The water was pleasantly cool, not the iciness of Dracula's touch…and not as treacherously pleasurable.

Suddenly she felt the water seethe. It scorched her skin although the temperature did not change. It seared like acid. She cried aloud in anguish…his hand kept hers firmly in place.

Next she smelt the burning. That awful stench of charred flesh assaulted her nostrils. She turned her head away in vain to avoid it. She was dimly aware that it was not her own skin.

"Open your eyes." A terrible snarl penetrated the veil of pain that had enveloped her.

Her eyes shot open against her will.

A terrible sight awaited her. For an instant all that existed were his eyes. Those horrible demon eyes that had told a hundred thousand lies and beheld a hundred thousand women such as her. Those eyes, that seared and burned more than the acid her hand was submerged in. Those eyes, that any woman would love.

Gradually the whole scene revealed itself to her. She turned her head in the direction that he had signalled, like a shadow puppet she followed his every move. The water in the font had turned a sickening hue of purple. The smell of corruption was rife. Slowly she felt her hand withdraw. She retched when he extracted his once perfect hand. Where the holy water had touched was rotten, putrid. His porcelain flesh hung in ribbons from the bone. Through gritted teeth she heard him laugh. Quietly at first and gradually getting louder until he was roaring with laughter.

To her astonishment her own hand was completely unscathed. It hung as pearly white as it had before it entered the water and the small freckle on the base of her right hand stared up at her still, unaffected.

A glimmer of hope fluttered against her ribcage before the icy hand of wisdom quashed it. She watched in grim fascination as his skin began to slowly re-knit itself. The tendrils of ragged flesh clung to each other while invisible needles artfully patched them together. The corner of his mouth tugged upwards in a malevolent smirk as he watched her grim absorption in this macabre act.

"That, my dear, is how powerful your God is…" He hissed huskily.

He twisted her violently until she was facing him, until her hips were firmly on his and her breasts moulded like putty against his sculptured torso. Once again she became aware of the chalice of holy water, still tightly clutched in her right hand.

"Let us test him further…shall we?" He whispered softly, deftly into her ear, his dulcet tones caressing her very eardrum.

"Please…" A rather pathetic incoherent reply was all that she found herself able to mumble.

"I'll take that as a yes…my dear." He giggled like a love-struck puppy.

She was paralysed. Completely still. Immobile. He reached down between them and tore off the buttons on his shirt. His hand had now completely healed, leaving no inference of its violation. One by one he let the buttons fall like good-luck pennies onto the hard stone flagged floor. _One…two…three…four…five…_ Each sounding made her flinch. They were insignificant sounds, yet all the same, vitally important.

She realised then. She felt, simply what she was allowed to feel. The suggestion of each sense was his. Should he wish her to feel pain, she was obliged to feel it terribly. Should he wish her to fear him, she would fear him more than death itself. Should he wish her to find him pleasing, she would revel in his very voice. Her mind was no more hers than the stars were.

The thought did not disturb her…

_I wanted to update;) The next chapter will have more adult themes… …_


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